


the floor is feelings

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Best Friends, Comedy, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, IT'S A ROMCOM IS WHAT IT IS, Idiots in Love, Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Whump, everyone knows (inc them) and they bet on it, this is a wild ride and p much Everyone is in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: The Rules of The Thing, as agreed to by All Parties who enter the betting pool:-Small reactions = one (1) point-Laughing at bad jokes = two (2) points-Kissing = three (3) points-Ned Leeds is appointed as Referee, and will, by all Winners, be given a 15% Commission fee-The Thing ends once one of the Two (Peter or Michelle AKA "MJ") explicitly states their love for the other, in the presence of the Referee-One (1) reaction post-Declaration will count towards the final point tally***Wherein: Peter and MJ openly love each other (but refuse to say it first), everyone’s betting on it, and Ned’s stuck in the middle taking notes.





	the floor is feelings

**Author's Note:**

> im still laughing at how long this got but Enjoy

It has turned into a game.

Ned’s the de facto referee, watching from the sidelines as his two best friends attempt to get the other to _say something_ first.

He’s not really sure how it even worked out this way; by all accounts, Peter’s a mess when he’s got a crush, but for some reason falling in love with MJ has left him with this iron resolve to _not_ say a _word_ about it until _she_ does.

...Because MJ is, of her own admission, also very much in _The Pit™️_. Ned’s got at least thirty minutes of talk time over text as proof, and if the NSA really _is_ recording all calls—and it _is_ , he’s checked—then there’s at least two more hours of proof on that end.

But yeah, this is their life now, and everyone at AcaDec is counting on _him_ to keep the score as accurate as possible.

Because there’s a pool, and Abe’s hoping to use Flash’s $300 bet as computer part money during the Cyber Week sale.

To keep it fair, the team had decided that either way the win goes, Ned gets a designated 15% commission. They’re all surprisingly honorable about the bet, really, and Flash even admits he’s only _not bribing Leeds ‘cause it’s a pride thing, you wouldn’t understand._

Anyway.

Now Playing: The Floor Is Lava, But Replace “Floor” With “Feelings”.

* * *

Peter’s hopped up on adrenaline, landing on the skyscraper with ease. No sign of the Rhino, which is Not Good™️.

“ _Hear anything?_ ” Ned asks over the comms.

Peter strains his ears, trying to will himself to hear _more._ “Karen, please scan for, um...large collisions?”

“ _Try ‘unexpected ground vibrations’_ ,” MJ adds quickly.

“Or that.”

Karen’s low _beeping_ fills Peter’s mask, and he climbs higher for a better vantage point.

There’s something off.

Something…just… _something._

“ _There are disturbances under 5th and 34th_ ,” Karen says.

“ _That’s the Empire State…_ ” MJ says, concern evident.

Peter gulps. “Uh-oh.”

Ned’s shaky voice fills his ears. “ _Um, aren’t you_ on _…?_ ”

“Uh-huh.”

There.

Minute, but there—a _wobble_.

“Karen, how many people are in the building?”

“ _11,156. 11,101. 11,114_ —”

“That’s, um,” _Curse._ “That’s good for now, Karen, thanks.”

“ _Building stability is currently at 98% and decreasing_.”

“ _I’m calling Tony_ ,” MJ announces, and Peter hears the distant clicks of a phone.

“ _I’ll get Strange_ ,” Ned adds. “ _Dude, be careful_.”

_Think, think, think…_

_Cameras._

_All over the building._

“Ned, can you patch me through to an emergency broadcast?”

“ _Using what?_ ”

Peter swings to the front of the Empire State Building, hopping onto the partial roof in the middle. “The security cameras on 5th. I need everyone inside to get the message, so all computers and TVs in there.”

“ _Ned, gimme your phone, I’ll get Strange_ ,” MJ says in the background.

“ _Oh, yeah, here—it’s already ringing_.”

“ _Got it. Peter?_ ”

“Yeah, MJ?”

She clears her throat. “ _Please be careful_.”

“I wi— _whoa_!”

Another tremor rises, and Peter’s sure everyone inside felt it. He crouches, attaching himself to the building.

“ _Building stability at 90%. Tremors located at 6th and 33rd_ ,” Karen updates.

“Ned?” Peter grimaces. He’s very glad he has a mask.

“ _And—you’re through!_ ”

“Hey everybody! We’ve got a bit of an emergency out here…”

***

He gets everyone out. Somehow.

After the PSA, Peter’d tried to secure the base of the building with webbing, and that helped.

He thinks.

Doctor Strange picked up on the second call and came over right away to help find the Rhino, and that _definitely_ helped.

Tony was stuck somewhere between Whitestone and the compound when the Empire State started _tilting_ , but he made it in before it could reach Pisa levels and irreversible damage had been done to the foundation.

And the Rhino…

Peter remembers the sewer.

He _vaguely_ remembers getting punched.

A lot.

In the face.

Karen’s playback is a little choppy because of said punching, and honestly? He’s not sure if he wants to remember why MJ and Ned were trying to coach him over the comms.

Ned’s, “ _Bob and weave! Bob and weave!_ ”

MJ’s, “ _He’s partial to his left—duck! Duck!_ ”

Or them trying to wake him up.

“ _MJ, did you call Tony?!_ ”

“ _He’s already there! Strange should—Peter, wake up! Peter!_ ”

“ _Pete, he’s above you, dude!_ ”

“ _This is_ not _how you find out, Peter! Wake up!_ "

“ _Your face is about to get smashed into hummus!_ ”

“— _Suddenly my least favorite food.”_

“ _Oops. Sorry._ ”

But at least he won! Sort of.

He’s still pretty _ehhh_ at winning fights, honestly, but if he comes out alive he counts it as a win.

Even if he can’t really feel most of his body at the moment.

Maybe he should’ve tried a little harder to listen to Strange’s lessons.

Magic himself back to normal, or something.

Is there a normal in magic? Is that a thing?

Wow, he wants an ice pack.

Maybe three.

Maybe an ice _bath_.

“Kid, what did I tell you about calling when the guy’s twice your height and super-strong?”

Tony’s voice. From…beside him?

Where _is_ he?

“Can he even move his mouth?” another familiar voice says.

MJ.

A familiar snort. “You’d ask that,” Ned says. He yelps, and Peter imagines MJ elbowing him, because he _still can’t open his eyes_.

_Beep._

“I think he hears us,” MJ says.

“He does,” Tony confirms. “He blacked out for a second when Strange opened the portal, but he’s been awake for the past ten minutes.”

MJ hums. “We should probably talk to him outside of the third person, then.”

“You think I was being funny earlier?”

A pause.

Peter imagines her quirking a brow at his mentor.

“...Okay, fair, but it wasn’t completely a joke. Pete, kid, Dr. Cho’s working on the swelling, got it?”

“And May doesn’t know,” Ned blabs.

Peter _wills_ his arm to reach out.

“His finger’s twitching,” MJ blanks. “Oh. I think he’s trying to communicate.” She moves closer, lowering her voice. “Pete, you won’t be able to move much for a day or so.”

 _Grunt, Parker, you can do it!_ he thinks. _Any form of vocal reassurance!_

...It comes out more like a _Deflating Balloon™️_ , but he’ll take it.

“Ah, I see,” MJ says.

“What’s up?” Ned asks.

“Dunno, could just be gas,” MJ says with a light laugh. “From the lil' domes on his face. Maybe if we pop everything he’ll go back to normal size.”

Peter makes _Angry Deflating Balloon Noises™️_.

“Does this count as a clinical trial?” Ned asks, presumably to Tony.

“No.”

(Definitely to Tony.)

“But I can get a box of sharpies in here within two minutes.”

Peter hates them.

He _hates_ them.

***

May walks in the next day with now-cold Thai food and Peter’s new, trackable backpack. “Good thing Mr. Stark gave you this—there was a _lot_ of questionable stuff in that alley this morning.”

“Sorry,” Peter rasps, the only remnants of yesterday’s fight being three large, blue-black spots on his face, a neck brace, and his arm and leg casts.

May smiles at him sadly. “You look horrible.”

“How bad?”

“I don’t think even a kiss from that girl you like would save you.”

Peter widens his eyes as far as he can, then turns his stiff, braced neck around to double-check the med bay.

“Don’t worry, they’re at school right now,” May winks. “And I used a code word!”

Peter stares at his aunt helplessly.

“...Not my best, but I’m working on it, sweetie. I—” she says, patting his head, “—am on your side.”

“Thanks, May.”

She smiles, then leans over like she’s in a spy mission. “So, have you said anything?”

“ _May_!”

“Sorry, sorry, you know the tension’s killing me.”

“...No, I haven’t.”

May furrows her brows. “ _Peter_. ”

“I’m not saying anything until _she_ says something,” Peter huffs, forgetting that he can’t cross his arms because they’re both in straight casts.

“Honey, this is _kind_ of ridiculous. You got pummeled yesterday.”

“I like to think it was more like a massage, but um, free, and a lot more painful.” _Squint_. “I got pummeled _real bad_ , huh?”

May offers a tight smile. “Your black eyes are fading, though. And look! They didn’t even sharpie your skin. Just your casts.”

“Yay. Woo.” Peter moves his left arm closer to her so she can see the tinyurl link on it.

May quirks a brow.

“It’s a loop of the Rhino throwing me across town like a dog toy.”

May doesn’t laugh.

It’s _not_ funny, and she _doesn’t_ laugh.

She just, you know, holds in her breath like Peter still smells of sewer, or something.

Peter sighs. “...You can laugh.”

“Oh, _thank you_ ,” she says, melting into giggles and guffaws.

***

MJ waits around the corner like a questionable youth, except holding three books instead of a spray can, and being within the halls of the Avengers’ compound instead of a dingy street corner.

Clint passes her, nodding. “Still at it?”

“Either I win or the world ends,” she replies tightly.

“You better, I got Sam gunning for my bow collection.”

 _Squint_. “...I don’t know why, but I had a fleeting feeling of surprise when you said ‘bow collection’.”

“Bow _ties_ ,” Clint explains.

“Sure.”

“Why are we friends?”

“I helped organize the guerrilla protests and petitions that got you out of your mega-prison.”

Clint nods again. “That’s right. You’re smart. Carry on.”

MJ salutes.

Clint leaves through a vent to her right, in true Hawkeye fashion.

In five minutes, the clock ticks eight.

May rounds the corner.

“Anything?” MJ asks, readjusting her books.

“Not even with the old Ben Talk,” May sighs. “He’s being extra stubborn.”

 _Tch_. “I’ve taught him well.”

“Are you going to check on him?”

MJ nods. “Yeah, just waiting for Ned.”

“Okay, I’ll be in his room,” May says tiredly. “Let me know if you need a ride, sweetie.”

“Thanks, May.”

***

“Peter.”

“MJ.” He turns freely, the neck brace and casts being removed two hours ago. “Ned.”

“Peter. MJ.”

“Ned,” MJ says, stoically. “Peter. You look okay.”

Peter squints, ever so slightly, staring her down (or trying to, from his low-angle bed). “I feel okay.”

She stares back. “Good.”

“Awesome.”

“ _Excellent_.”

“ _Amazing_.”

“Spider-Man,” Ned says, unable to resist the joke. “I brought cheese,” he adds like a diplomat, placing a deli sampler on the small table by Peter’s bedside.

“I love... _cheese_ ,” Peter says pointedly, not breaking eye contact.

“Same,” MJ deadpans, “cheese knows when to quit.”

He squints harder. “Some cheeses are more stubborn than others, don’t generalize.”

“Wow,” Ned says, taking a bite of cheddar from the deli sampler. “This is all _so_ interesting, you guys.”

MJ takes a random piece from the platter, tilting her head at Peter. “You know, I’m very glad my _favorite_ cheese didn’t get wiped from the face of the earth yesterday.”

“ _So_ intriguing,” Ned mutters, stealing two more pieces.

“What cheese would that be, MJ?” Peter asks, leaning as close as his bed would allow.

“Par…” she starts, leaning on the side of his bed. She hears his breath hitch. “...migiano-Reggiano.”

She’s two inches from his face and he _glares_ at her as she downs a piece of Swiss cheese.

 _Two inches_ , Peter thinks.

 _Two inches_ , MJ gulps, swallowing the cube of cheese. She smiles at him smugly.

He leans in and she _jumps_ back, wide-eyed.

Peter smirks, grabbing a piece from the sampler and popping it into his mouth. “ _Problem_ , MJ?”

 _You are my problem_ , she thinks, smoothing her features over. “Nope.”

Ned’s typing on his phone.

Ned wants to go mess with Peter’s suit, or video call Shuri and mess with Peter’s suit _with_ Shuri.

Ned also wants some cake. He thinks he deserves some cake for putting up with this for almost five months.

And you know what else? Ned wants to go back in time.

He wants to go back in time and _cheat_ , and make them both fall over when they were leaning in, because he’s _tired_ of pulling the cheese trick every other med bay visit and typing up a new score every time they manage to circumvent it.

Ned Leeds wants _freedom_.

Ned Leeds wants this to _end_ before they hit triple digit scores.

Ned Leeds...

...wants more of that cheddar, wow, that stuff was _good_.

* * *

MJ has decided that being team captain is pretty nice, but is also a pain in _several places_ whenever she has to add new members to the _very detailed_ spreadsheet.

She wishes Liz wasn’t so busy with school, because then she could ask for some help, like last year.

(A part of her brain considers asking Ned or Peter for help, like a person with common sense, but until The Thing is cleared up, they are effectively her strategic opponents.)

She calls Shuri.

She immediately _regrets_ calling Shuri, and tries to hang up.

Shuri answers, because Life is against her. “ _Hey MJ!_ ”

“Um, hey.”

“ _Oh, did you lose?_ ”

(Why does _everyone_ know about The Thing. _Why_.

Privacy is a capitalist sham.)

“No,” MJ says, “but I need some advice.”

“ _I told you, I’m married to science. Nakia is better with boy problems._ ”

“Not about Peter.”

“ _Could have fooled me._ ”

“I call you about other things 95% of the time, Shuri.”

“ _I know,_ ” she replies, “ _I just like to ignore that fact because Parker is the one that makes you the most flustered_.”

MJ groans. “You wanna help or not?”

“ _Will it be for the benefit of the STEM-inclined youth of mid-North America?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Fire away._ ”

***

“ _...Thank you for enlightening me to the horrors of Academic Decathlon_.”

“You’re welcome.”

“ _So,_ ” Shuri says, “ _what’s next for the great Michelle Jones?_ ”

MJ closes the spreadsheet on her laptop, plopping back down on her head with a heavy _sigh_. “Dinner, maybe?”

“... _Did you skip a meal again?_ ”

“Uh,” she replies, checking the clock. Half-past nine. “I may have skipped...two.”

“ _Dude._ ”

“Hey, I already have the boys ragging on me for skipping meals, I don’t need you to add to it.”

“ _Yeah, they better be_ ,” Shuri responds, tapping something on her end.

 _Squint_. “...What’re you doing?”

“ _Thank me later, Jones_.”

“Why do I feel like that’s unlikel—”

_Ring._

MJ pulls the phone away from her ear, only to be greeted by Peter’s cartoon-like screaming face.

“Shuri,” she says, hoping her phone stops ringing, “why is Peter calling me.”

“ _As that was not phrased as a question, I elect not to answer_.”

“You _snitch_.”

“ _Payback._ ”

“I trusted you! I showed you my spreadsheet!”

Shuri’s _losing it_ on her end, only calming enough to wheeze out: “ _It’s rude to ignore your boyfriend’s calls, MJ._ ”

“He’s. not. my. boyfriend.”

“ _Yet!_ ” the princess laugh-shouts.

MJ has decided that friends were a bad idea.

The _ringing_ stops, only to resurface two seconds later. She hates her life.

Shuri’s laughter echoes in her ear, mocking her. “ _You’re teaching me so much about love here, Jones—I wasn’t aware it was customary to ignore people for this long._ ”

MJ grits her teeth, “Yeah, well lo—”

 _Squint_.

 _Wait a second_. “—Are you baiting me?”

Shuri stops laughing abruptly, clearing her throat. “ _I would_ never _._ ”

Peter drops and calls again.

MJ sits up. “ _You_ — _How_ did he _turn_ you—”

“ _What was that?_ ” Shuri asks, the tell-tale crinkling of paper in the background. “ _I_ — _krsssch_ — _I think I’m breaking up_ — _krsschhh_ — _MJ, you th_ — _krsschkrssch_ —”

“Calls don’t end with static anymore, Shuri.”

“ _Are you_ — _ksschh_ — _sure? America is_ — _krschrssch_ — _third world country_ — _krrrrschh_ —”

“That’s—true.” MJ blinks. “But calls still don’t end in static.”

Shuri stops making static sounds and crumpling paper. “ _How many times has he tried calling now?_ ”

“I lost count at four.”

“ _That,_ ” Shuri says ominously, “ _is my cue_.”

“What does that even me—”

 _Click_.

MJ pulls her phone away again, staring it down. “Weird.”

She has fived missed calls from Peter, and one voicemail from presumably the first call.

“ _MJ? You want pizza? Or a sandwich? Or both? I’m getting both. Don’t argue. I’m getting paid now, so you’re not allowed to argue. Oh! Olives? Do you want olives? Or not feeling it tonight? Probably not. Uh. Hmm, I’ll get an 18-inch, just in case, and_ — _Oh, gimme a sec, I’m getting a call._ ”

 _Oh no, he’s a keeper_ , she thinks to herself before replaying the message.

Stupid Peter, taking care of her.

Stupid Shuri, telling him about her missed meals.

Stupid Ned, clinging to her window in abject fear.

...Wait.

“Dude, what the hell?” MJ says, opening her window and letting the boy in.

Er, if _falling in_ can be counted as _letting in_.

Ned kisses the wood floors, then splays out over them appreciatively. “Can I just say? Super glad _you_ don’t have superpowers.”

“What are you—”

Peter drops in quietly, handing her the food and closing the window. “Wew. Drafty.”

MJ knits her brows. “I get why _you’re_ here, but why did you have to traumatize Ned?”

“What, Ned?” Peter _pff_ ’s, waving a hand. “He was fine the swing over.”

Ned offers a thumbs up from the floor. “True facts—the only sucky part was getting stuck on your window without the, uh—” he says, making a motion with his hand.

“—the sticky finger things?” MJ offers.

“The sticky finger things,” Ned confirms, lying face down on the floor again. “I love floors.”

“Peter bled on that spot the other day and I haven’t done a deep clean yet.”

“I. Love. Floors,” he repeats slowly, challenging her.

“...Love away, Leeds.” She looks down at the pizza box. “I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t eat all of this.”

“We can share,” Peter says, plopping down at the side of her bed, and patting the floor beside him.

“Very sweet, Spidey,” she says, sitting. She opens the box, and the smell of four cheese pizza makes her stomach _growl_.

“You sure you’re gonna share?” Ned teases.

“Shut up, ref, I know you’re only here because of…” MJ starts, her voice drifting as she glances at Peter.

Here’s the thing with the bet.

It’s kinda like Fight Club.

Neither of them _acknowledge_ its existence.

It’s not against the rules or anything, they just like to pretend that half the senior class of Midtown Tech and the entirety of the Avengers—both current and retired— _aren’t_ gambling _way_ too much cash and personal belongings on their relationship.

So MJ leaves the sentence open-ended.

She grabs a slice of pizza and accepts the sandwich from Peter’s backpack, and pretends that Ned _isn’t_ opening his Notes app, collecting evidence.

She certainly _doesn’t_ react when Peter rests his left hand strategically close to her right.

Because reactions mean points.

And points factor into the overall loot-share.

And she _promised_ May that her points would be higher than Peter’s, because that means an extra $150 for The Great May Parker, with a nice little cut for MJ herself.

“Good pizza,” MJ blanks, turning her body to lean on Peter’s shoulder, hand ignored.

Peter says nothing, reaching instead for a slice.

***

Ned wants to die.

It’s winter, Peter basically just _kidnapped_ him from his _warm, toasty_ home, and MJ’s too _smart_ and _observant_ to fall for any of his (other) best friend’s more obvious tricks.

He watches them pick at the remains of the pizza (MJ had finished the sandwich twenty minutes ago), doing his best to _not_ tear his hair out.

MJ _burps_ , motioning for Peter to pass her the glass of water on her bedside table.

“Don’t fall asleep, MJ,” Peter says softly, passing the glass.

“I’m not sleepy,” she lies, _yawning_. “I’m just full.”

“If you fall asleep on the floor, I’m not carrying you.”

Ned gives him a _Yeah, right_ face.

Peter ignores him.

MJ yawns again, stretching her shoulders. “Not sleepy. Just tired.”

“What happened to ‘full’?”

“Full _and_ tired, I can be both.”

Peter slings his left arm onto the bed behind MJ’s shoulders, _trying_.

 _Bite the bait_ , he thinks, wishing he were Wanda.

MJ pointendly leans forward, resting an elbow on her raised knee. She quirks a brow at him. “You tired, Pete?”

“Tired _and_ full, I can be both,” he grinds out, jaw tight. He’s not sure what the score is currently, but he’s _pretty sure_ they’re about tied.

“You can also be the most annoying two people in the entire world, but nobody cares about what _Ned_ thinks, just the _score_...” Ned mutters _way_ louder than intended.

In that it wasn’t intended to escape his lips.

Like, at all.

Peter and MJ turn their heads so quickly that he feels the vertigo from his spot on the floor.

He stares at them. “Um. You. Didn’t hear that.”

MJ averts her gaze, pursing her lips.

Because that’s easier than saying words.

And words will only betray her right now.

Peter wants to say something.

Peter _really_ wants to say something. His feet are tapping off-tempo from his fingers, and he’s _floundering_. Debating with himself. Wondering.

Wondering if this is worth it.

Peter clears his throat. “Wanna head home?”

Ned coughs. “Um. Yes. That would be nice.” He gets up, offering MJ a low-five (she takes it), and saying, “ _Uhhhh_ , night.”

MJ stares at the floor. “Yup. Night. Get home safe.” She turns to Peter. “Don’t drop him.”

“Impossible,” Peter frowns.

Ned _looks_ at him.

“... _One_ time, dude.”

“And you wonder why I hope she wi— _uhhh_ ,” Ned says, catching himself. “Wiii...ll sleep. Soundly. This fine evening. G’bye.”

He speedwalks to the window, waiting in shame.

 _Bad Ned_ , he thinks. _No more caffeine for you._

***

“So, uh, you don’t really want _her_ to. Y’know,” Peter asks after dropping him off in his nice, warm, comfy room.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ned answers. “I’m a very fair person.”

Peter squints, tilting his head.

 _That’s getting weird_ , Ned thinks.

“That’s getting weird,” Ned says.

“What is?”

“You do the thing MJ does.”

Peter scrunches up half his face. “What thing?”

“That.” Ned pulls up his phone, setting the camera to front view. “The face thing. You do the _exact_ same thing.”

Peter squints at the camera feed. “...I don’t see it.”

“Love has made you blind,” Ned deadpans, pushing him out the window.

“ _Whoa_ , whoa, that’s a big word to throw around, I wouldn’t say that’s—”

Ned glares at him.

“—maybe—maybe, sure, yeah, but _off-the-record_ maybe,” Peter concedes, sitting on the sill.

Ned groans, shoving him with little force to _leave_. “What _ever_ , dude, just end everyone’s misery already. It’s almost _prom_ , for Pete’s sake.”

“...Me-Pete or—”

“Dude, I love you, you’re my _bro_ ,” Ned says, throwing his head back in restrained _pain_ , “but that joke needs to be buried in a ditch with your _and_ MJ’s pride, because not even the television set I’m being promised is worth this...this _agony_.”

“Noted,” Peter nods, hopping outside. “See ya at school, dude.”

Ned grunts, locking his window and sending updates to two separate group chats.

_peter - 83; mj - 83_

* * *

“ _How_ are they still tied?” May asks the next time they’re all upstate because of _someone_ getting _injured._

_Again._

Natasha looks like the personification of 97 gallons of caffeine; she’s staring down at the notes from Ned’s _PETER+MJ_ file—proof of each and every point he’s given. “I take full responsibility.”

“What, did you hack Ned’s app?” Sam asks from across the table.

“No. But I taught Peter how to handle social situations.”

“‘ _71 - Peter forgets to breathe because MJ smiles at him_ ’,” Clint recites, turning to her. “You sure about that?”

“Minor road bump, still working on how he deals with girls he’s in love with,” she replies, eyes trained on the papers. “Once this whole thing blows over I can have her come in for his practice sessions.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “Is that code for ‘Peter will be relentlessly flirted with by his girlfriend while trying to withhold world-ending secrets’?”

“Nice to know they taught you sass in Wakanda.”

“I already knew sass, I just needed to remember to use more than five words without causing a coup.”

Shuri nods from beside him. “He did. My brother is very glad.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room,” T’Challa frowns.

“I think I heard a ghost,” she says, scanning the room. “Tony, is this warehouse haunted?”

“It’s haunted if you say it is,” Tony says, checking his phone.

Wanda pretends to scratch her temple, but a laugh manages to escape her anyway.

T’Challa furrows his brows. “ _Mr. Stark_.”

Tony shrugs. “She fixed Rhodey’s legs and upgraded all our equipment—I trust her more than I trust Pepper.”

“I share the sentiment,” Pepper adds.

“None of that explains why neither of them have cracked,” Bruce says, reading and rereading the notes. He sighs. “I was really looking forward to Tony treating our side with shawarma again.”

“Again, always listen to Shuri,” Tony says, scrolling through who-knows-what.

“Brother, did I ever mention that you’re not my favorite Avenger?” Shuri grins, turning to T’Challa.

“You have indeed mentioned such at various intervals, Princess Shuri,” Vision says, because he can.

The king asks himself why he even bothers.

“Oh, here’s some news,” Tony says, sitting up. “Leeds says prom season’s started.”

“How come it’s not in the group chat?” Bucky asks, furrowing his brows.

“You clicked the wrong thread, Buck,” Natasha says, taking his phone and tapping something. “And—there.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now,” she replies, learning over the table, “are we adding any extras to the pot if we hit three-digit scores?”

* * *

Ned has only survived this long because his parents are distracting him with their constant nagging about college acceptance letters. He has never been so grateful to have a semi-tiger mom until this day, honestly.

The day that is, by the count on the banners around school, exactly _one week_ to prom.

The day he expects either Peter or MJ to break.

(Or both, at the same time. He’s not picky.)

Because lately, they’ve been doing weird couple things without being a couple.

Like stealing each others’ clothes.

Or absentmindedly sharing food.

And the _waist hugs_.

“What do you mean _nothing happened_?” Cindy grills him during sixth period. “They’ve been doing the side hug thing! For a _month_!”

Ned sighs, placing his head in his hands. “I genuinely think that _they_ think they’re like, lowering each others’ defenses or something, but yeah, I’ve been with them every. _single_. time. they’ve been together for the past eight-ish months—except right now, obv—and _nothing_ has happened.”

“They’re dating,” Sally says, rubbing her temples. “They’re dating, but they don’t even _know_ they’re dating.”

“And Ned’s their kid!” Charles yells excitedly.

“I am sorry for you,” Abe says to Ned.

“You can apologize with pizza,” Ned replies.

“Not _that_ sorry.”

Ned shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“Act normal, they’re coming back!” Cindy stage-whispers.

They all ignore her advice and _blatantly_ stare at the couple-not-couple as they walk back into the room with Mr. Harrington.

“I’m just saying, a new set of drills could be a good thing!” Peter says.

MJ huffs, raging. “Mr. Harrington, I set every question myself—it took almost _two_ _months_ to arrange everything! You can’t just blow off my hard work because Tony Stark’s donating to the club budget. That’s _nepotism_.”

Mr. Harrington looks how Ned feels.

_Panicked._

_“No_!” Flash hisses from a far table. “They can’t have trouble in paradise _now_! I just raised my bet!”

“Dude, _shut up_ , they’ll hear you,” Charles spits back.

Ned suddenly wishes the bet could go on longer, because MJ looks like she’s about to strangle Peter, and _he_ looks like he’s going to (politely) chuck her across the hallway.

“Not everything has to be the _captain’s_ idea, _MJ_ ,” Peter grinds out.

“Didn’t say it had to, _Pete_ ,” MJ throws back. “But sometimes, unlike in world politics, there’s a system that works, and you generally _stick to it_.”

“Maybe it’s time for some changes because _everything_ can be _improved_.”

“Maybe changes need to implemented _incrementally_ , so as not to _crumble_ an _established system_ and have to work from the _ground up_.”

Mr. Harrington escapes to the grandmaster’s podium somewhere between “Not” and “everything”, which really was a sight to see.

Ned stalks over to him, vaguely paying attention to the feuding duo. “Uh, sir? What’s going on?”

“They’re debating over the validity of Decathlon exercises in the current year,” Mr. Harrington replies with waning energy. “Peter’s got a good idea about changing up the drills and questions, but Michelle’s right—disrupting the flow of the team this late in the year could, potentially, do more harm than good.” He puts his head in his hands. “But they won’t _compromise_ , which is so odd—it’s like they’re mad about something else.”

Ned swallows, remembering one important detail:

Mr. Harrington doesn’t know about The Thing.

...Well, the movie, yes, but not the—whatever, nevermind.

Somewhere by the door, he hears MJ call Peter a _short stack with a bad sense of cinematography_ and Peter bite back with _At least_ I’m _stacked, you lanky giraffe_ , and the rest of the AcaDec team staying silent as ghosts.

“I—uh, I’ll—I’ll go talk to them, if you want,” Ned offers, willing a convincing smile up from his dying soul.

“Please, would you?” Mr. Harrington _begs_ , looking up briefly. “They’ve been at it since this morning. I can only handle so many free period visits before the blowback drives _me_ crazy. I need my yoga, Ned. _I need my yoga_.”

Ned pats his shoulder consolingly. “I got it, Mr. Harrington. Don’t you worry about anything!”

***

He shouldn’t have said that.

He _regrets_ saying that.

MJ and Peter sit in front of him on the steps outside the school, passing glares at each other like five-year-olds.

“Okay, I have paper and pencils,” Ned says slowly, handing the items out, “and you guys are going to write down your feelings.” Pause. “Off-book.”

MJ furrows her brows. “What if I just draw Peter as ugly as possible?”

“Nobody believes you only like him for his looks, so you can try,” Ned quips.

Peter snorts.

MJ gives him a death glare.

He sets to writing away from her gaze.

“I have _no_ idea why you guys are fighting,” Ned deadpans. “You were fine on the call last night.”

“Her fault,” Peter mumbles, still writing. “Just can’t let it go that I had a good idea.”

“I didn’t say it _wasn’t_ a good idea, I said it wasn’t a smart one to pull this close to the end of the year,” MJ hisses, aggressively writing on her paper. “Maybe if you use your big, genius brain for stuff other than your next web formula, you’d notice that the freshmen are still adjusting to the team and can’t _handle_ this much change yet.”

“Yeah, well maybe they’re not the only ones under a lot of stress of life-changing decisions, because oh, right, we’re graduating in less than a month, _aren’t we_ , MJ?” Peter throws back, digging deeper at the paper. “Maybe it would be nice to make an impact.”

“You—are—freaking—Spider—Man,” MJ grinds out, hunched over what Ned is hoping and praying is a _letter_ , and not a detailed description of how many ways she’s about to kill Peter.

“That’s not what—”

_Crack._

_Crrraack._

Ned passes them both sharpeners when their pencil tips break almost simultaneously.

They huff.

“I think you guys aren’t stressed about the Decathlon thing,” Ned says carefully, squatting down on the steps below them.

MJ puts down her pencil, smoothing down her hair and rolling up the sleeve of her—Peter’s—jacket. She pauses, as if remembering the original owner. _Sigh_. “No. _I’m_ not.”

Peter taps his pencil absentmindedly on his knee; he turns begrudgingly to face his friends, pouting. “I’m not, either,” he says, sneaking a glance at MJ. “I think you’re right.”

“And I think you made a good case, nerd-supreme,” she concedes, rolling her eyes.

“And _I_ think we should end _this_ ,” Ned says, hands spread out encouragingly. “Seriously. It’s sucking for you guys, and it’s suckin’ for me.”

“I still have a rep, Leeds,” MJ announces defiantly, standing. She stares down at Peter, rage gone, and offers her hand. “All’s fair, eh, Pete?”

Peter gets up, shaking her hand. “All’s fair, MJ.”

“Prepare to lose.”

“ _Always am_ ,” he says seriously, before: “Wait. No. That’s not—”

“I’m gonna count that as a point for me, Ned,” MJ says, pulling her hand away and waving sweetly at her not-yet-boyfriend.

“No!” Peter yells, wide-eyed, turning to Ned. “No, hey, I didn’t react—that’s not reacting! She can’t get that point!”

Ned stares at them like an exhausted parent of seven, gravely aware he’d just given his children good life advice and they went out of their way to _Ignore It Completely_.

Peter leaves, yelling after MJ.

Ned thinks he’s seen Death, and Death ran.

“I...need new friends,” he whispers to himself, choking up.

***

Turns out those suckers actually _did_ write their feelings down on the papers, and Ned’s regretting calling it off-book, because _wow_.

_Falling in love with Peter Parker is the best thing to happen to me since Ned Leeds saved my sorry spiral of a friendless life in freshman year and I hate both of them for making me a better person on the whole, and this is probably a run-on sentence but I DON’T CARE I’m SO MAD THAT PETER HASN’T QUIT YET. THIS SHOULD’VE BEEN EASY. >:( >:( >:(_

_MJ is like if the sun decided to tone down a bit so I didn’t go blind every time I looked at it, but like a person and RIGHT THERE and is only second-best at hugs (NED’S #1) and is weird but is okay with it and I LOVE HER I LOVE HER A LOT and I would like to kiss her face before dying, that would be nice & WHY IS SHE SO STUBBORN I WANT TO TAKE HER OUT ON A REAL DATE AND MAKE HER LAUGH AND STUFF >:( <//////////3_

Ned seethes. “I played myself.”

* * *

One day to prom.

No more blow-ups like last week, but stress tension has been replaced by this weird, _awkward_ tension, because Peter and MJ are both aware that Ned’s read the letters.

They’re just not sure if Ned’s shown the _other_ person the letters.

He hasn’t, and is frankly insulted they would even _think_ that, because he has boundaries, okay?

...He’s only showing the letters if no one says anything about prom before the final bell.

But anyway.

Ned’s back to stoic refereeing, glancing between the two of them during lunch.

Peter’s sitting across MJ, and MJ’s beside Ned. The usual.

Someone goes up to the prom banner in the middle of the cafeteria, switching out the velcroed number to “1”.

The clock _ticks_.

“ _One day to prom! Tickets are still available for any of you procrastinators…_ ” the speakers boom, Betty’s voice filling any and all empty spaces.

Ned spaces out, electing to watch as MJ’s hand twitches forward, disastrously close to Peter’s.

Peter’s got a better poker face by now ( _thanks, Nat_ ), but his jaw still tightens as he tries to continue eating one-handed like it’s no big deal.

...MJ takes the apple from his tray, pulling back her hand agonizingly slowly, _barely_ touching his.

Ned’s pretty sure she could take _Operation_ to the Olympics with that skill.

Peter clears his throat, looking at her dead-on with his best _Tony Stark Is Calm_ face. “Prom, MJ?”

She mimics him. “Don’t you mean ‘problem’, loser?”

“No, I meant ‘prom’.”

“Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

“Why’ssat?”

“I was going to ask you, see,” MJ shrugs, leaning on her copy of _Anna Karenina_ casually, “and if _you_ ask _me_ , that’s going to ruin my entire surprise.”

“Interesting.”

“Very.”

“Would you like to mutually ask and accept, then?” Peter says channeling Pepper. He steals her sandwich and takes a bite, chewing slowly. _Deliberately_.

She doesn’t flinch. “Hmm.”

Ned thinks this entire exchange belongs in an action-thriller, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, probably.

If he had any nails left over from the Decathlon Incident, he’d be biting at them now.

(Is that sweat?

Is he _sweating_?)

MJ squints. “That would be agreeable.” She offers a hand out. “Shake on it?”

Peter shakes on it. “So it’s settled.”

“My dress is red.”

“My suit _was_ blue, but I guess that’s gonna be a...specific color combination for me, so I will change it.”

“Sounds good.”

“Awesome.”

“Great.”

“See you tomorrow. At 7:30.”

“Don’t forget the corsage.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t forget to bury me,” Ned says, standing at the _bell_.

They _smirk_ at him.

Like some _team_.

Traitors.

* * *

Sally tiptoes, trying to see over the other kids. “Are they _kissing_?”

“They’re kissing,” Ned confirms.

They are.

They’re kissing.

Right there.

In the middle of the dance floor.

And _nobody_ is going to bother stopping them.

Cindy and Abe probably deserved this nice moment, with all the stress of The Bet Thing happening.

Ned nods appreciatively. “Good for him.”

The Decathlon crew swivels, attention shifting back to MJ and Peter by the punch bowl.

“How dare they have fun during prom,” Charles complains, downing a glass of water.

“How many points is it if they laugh at a joke?” Sally asks, spotting MJ’s hidden grin.

Ned _types_. “Two. They’re almost at 100 for tonight alone.”

“They’re already in the 300s?” Flash asks, scrunching up his face. He leans a little too far over the soundboard, sending _feedback_ into the crowd with a wince.

“Focus on the one thing you’re good at, Flash,” Sally quips, offering a hand out to Charles. “Dance?”

“Eh, why not,” he replies, turning to Ned. “You want in?”

“I’m good, gonna go annoy those two,” Ned replies, adjusting his hat.

Charles nods. “Mazal tov.”

***

“You’re going to make me suffer, now, aren’t you?” Ned asks, sipping from his glass.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” MJ blanks, arm-in-arm with Peter.

“For the record,” Ned says, raising his head in tired defiance, “I was rooting for you.”

Peter’s lips twitch up to smirk, but he _shuts_ that _down_.

“For the record,” MJ says, “ _that_ still counts.”

Peter doesn’t move.

Ned nods like the Godfather. “I know. You’re up.”

Peter wills his body to become stone.

Except for his free hand.

He wills his left hand to cup over MJ’s right, there where it rests on his right bicep.

MJ coughs. Involuntarily.

“Nevermind,” Ned smirks, squinting evilly at them both. “ _Tie_.”

***

Nobody wins at prom.

Except Cindy and Abe.

They win at prom.

Nobody is surprised.

* * *

Ned fidgets, smoothing down his graduation gown. “You’re killing me, guys.”

“You’re doing a bad job at being a hype-man,” MJ comments, reading the last few pages of _War and Peace_ before the ceremony. “Go forth, hype,” she adds, waving a hand.

“MJ, _please_.”

She raises her book indifferently. “I suppose royalty once considered begging as a sign of hype.”

“ _Pete_ ,” Ned pleads, turning to his best friend, his dude, his bro, his _stubborn mule of a classmate_.

Peter’s head rests on the back of the chair, eyes closed, nap interrupted. “ _Go_ , MJ. _Woo_ , MJ. Michelle Jones for president, _woo_ , yay,” he says monotonously.

“I meant the _other_ thing, and you know it,” Ned grunts, wishing he wasn’t wearing his best suit and tie under his gown, and was therefore free to risk wrinkling the ensemble to wrestle Peter into submission.

Peter raises his head, staring him down. “I am a steel tank, I will not be swayed.”

Ned scrunches up his face. “The hell has Nat been teaching you?”

“I am a bear, the winter will not make me fear.”

“Mmk, that’s weird,” Ned says, getting up. He looks pointedly at MJ. “This is what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Well aware,” she quips, adding something to her speech notes. Pause. “That doesn’t count, does it?”

Ned grits his teeth. “It. Unfortunately. Has to be. ‘An explicit statement’.”

She exhales.

“But it counts as a point.”

 _Curse_.

Peter smirks, returning to his nap.

***

Ned doesn’t believe it.

Ned _can’t_ believe it.

The universe must be ending again, because there’s just.

There’s _no way_ that just happened.

He looks around the gym, trying to catch May’s gaze, because there’s _no. freaking. way._

Flash’s agonized cry of _NOOOOOOOO, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A SURE SHOT!_ starts off a chorus of what is unmistakably _most_ of the senior class either erupting in cheers or wailing in misery.

Ned’s stunned.

He’s stunned, but he spots Coach Wilson and Principal Morita (semi-discreetly) receive a shower of $20’s from several other teachers, including Mr. Harrington.

Huh.

Guess someone told him.

Oh well.

The kid to Ned’s right keeps cursing. The kid to his left has his phone out, the device buzzing for every new Venmo transaction.

 _Ned’s_ phone starts buzzing.

For every.

New.

Venmo.

(And QuickPay!)

Transaction.

Everything’s got a note that says _15%_ or _commission_ or _extra_ or _ty ned!_ or, his personal favorite: _im salty but it's a good thing i switched sides last week_.

“ _I’m rich_ ,” he wheezes, watching the numbers add up. “ _I’m rich_. I’m going to buy Legos. _Holy_. _So much_ Lego.”

The two kids beside him pat his shoulders and shake his hands, like he’s a celebrity or something.

Like he caused this, somehow.

He shakes his head, staring at the stage.

MJ’s walking off, but her approving smile shines on him like a blessing.

 _Freedom granted_.

The roaring crowd is music to Ned’s ears.

Sweet, deafening, _harmonious_ music.

Oh, _finally_.

He looks for Peter, and _laughs_ when he finds him by the front row.

Ned texts the final score to the Avengers’ chat:

_peter - 398; mj - 400 (+3 for cheek kiss)_

***

“... _and congratulations, fellow graduates—we’re one step closer to changing the world. Find it in your heart to chase your dreams, and find it in your soul to do the right thing. Even if it’s hard. Make the world listen. Make it remember that you matter. Thank you_ ,” MJ says, finishing off her speech to thunderous applause.

Principal Morita walks over, offering her a handshake and congratulations, which she takes.

...Before beating him back to the mic and announcing with her signature Lack of Enthusiasm: “ _FYI, I’m in love with Peter Parker—but you guys already knew that._ ”

“Wow,” Tony says incredulously at the video. “ _I_. Wow.”

“I _trusted_ her with my bowties,” Clint says, choking up. “My _bowties_!”

“Cry later, pay now,” Natasha says, palm up in his direction.

He hands her a check.

“I. am. _amazing_ ,” Shuri says to the ceiling, arms open and basking in her _win_.

T’Challa half-scowls, handing her DisneyWorld passes. Laughter bubbles up in his chest as she takes it, and he shakes his head at his fortune.

“Ah,” Vision says, turning to Wanda. “I believe I am owed more cooking lessons.”

“I believe you are,” Wanda smiles, nodding.

Bucky grunts, nodding at Sam. “Do you want it in a metal case or electronically?”

Sam quirks a brow.

“...The case is in my room.”

Pepper clears her throat, approaching the screen. “Now that that’s cleared up, how are we on the summer get-together? Everyone’s good for July?”

* * *

“Aw, don’t you love us, Ned?” MJ teases, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah,” Peter adds, poking his sides. “Aren’t we the best friends ever?”

“I’m _so rich_ ,” Ned repeats for the nth time that afternoon. “Filthy. Stinkin’. Rich.”

“He’s broken,” MJ says.

“So _this_ is what stress does to the teenage brain,” Peter says, rubbing his chin. “You think he’ll split with us?”

MJ shakes her head.

 _Tsk_. Peter turns to his girlfriend-yes-girlfriend. “Wanna go walk around the block and be gross until he calms down?”

“ _Hell_ yes,” she replies, grabbing her wallet. “Ice cream?”

“ _I love you_ ,” Peter grins dumbly.

MJ pulls him up for a kiss. “I’m not gonna lie, that is _so_ nice to hear.”

“Kissing is also very nice. Would recommend.”

She quirks a brow. “Really? With whom?”

Peter _squints_.

“Kidding,” MJ says with a smirk, intertwining her fingers through his.

Peter keeps squinting.

“What?”

He jumps to ceiling, tugging her hand so she’s facing up at him. “Calculated my trajectory.”

“ _Nerd_ ,” she laughs as he closes the gap.

Ned’s looped _I’m so rich. Filthy. Stinkin’. Rich._ plays in the background as they pass by May’s room, excusing themselves from the apartment.

May smiles proudly, cupping MJ’s free hand as they go.

...And passing a nice little Jackson without Peter’s knowledge.

What a nice day to tell someone you love them.

What a nice day to win some prizes.

What a nice day to be _free_.

(And. _Filthy_. _Stinkin’_. _Rich_.)

**Author's Note:**

> i wonder how many people i caught with the kissing in the prom scene
> 
> eyooo hmu with comments if you wanna! and find me on tumblr as doofwrites
> 
> God bless <3


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